Alone
by Ice Cube1
Summary: When one brother is hurt, the other must be spurred into acting…and thinking about the what if’s…will they both survive the ordeal? Not really sure when this takes place…could be preshow or during…
1. Help Him

**Title: Alone**

**Author: Ice Cube**

**Rating: T**

**Spoilers: For Supernatural…but only vague references**

**Disclaimer: Right, if I owned them anywhere outside of my dreams, the characters that are forthwith mentioned in this story would be making me a lot of money and very happy…so no, they aren't mine, and I'm a broke college student who has no money, so if you're going to sue, feel free, you won't get anything.**

**Characters: Sam, Dean**

**Archives: Feel free; just let me know where so I can find it again.**

**Summary: When one brother is hurt, the other must be spurred into acting…and thinking about the what if's…will they both survive the ordeal? Not really sure when this takes place…could be pre-show or during…**

**Warnings: To those who think that I am capable of writing a fic that is torture free…I can't, and thus, if you don't want to see h/c, various possible tortures, and other forms of angst, find another story. Also, to those of you looking for slash, when I mean friendship and brotherhood, I take that in the trust you with my life and have no problem telling you about my current crush who is of the opposite sex way. In other words, if you're looking for slash, you won't find it here. **

**I don't have my stories beta'd, I'm too impatient to wait for someone to proof it after I've written it, so I apologize for any mistakes, and if you email me to tell me that they're there, I'll fix them later. Reviews are always a plus, it's great to know that people are reading my stories and like them, but as I'm a horrible reviewer, I won't hold my breath for them. Flames, however, will be treated with the utmost respect they deserve…they will be ignored completely or poked fun at with friends.**

**Thoughts are designated by italics…I hope…**

**That said, on with the tale…

* * *

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Chapter 1

Dean stared down at the sight of his brother's mangled body for only a second before spurring himself into action. The beast lay at his feet, blood from the fatal wound, delivered in pure hatred and driven simply by instinct, mixed with the dark fur. Dean wasn't even entirely sure what the creature was, just that it was evil and had hurt his baby brother. That in and of itself was reason enough to condemn it back to the clutches of Hell.

Sam's chest was ripped open, his t-shirt soaking up the blood that flowed freely. His arm was bent at an awkward angle, his head turned limply to the side, both the result of connecting with the brick wall when the beast had latched onto him and swung him like an old toy at least fifteen feet in the air. Bruising was already starting to color the young man's face, one of very few signs that Sam was even alive. The other was the one that startled Dean into using his cell phone to make a rare call…for an ambulance. He wasn't entirely sure how to explain this when the paramedics got to where they were, but the bubbles that made their way through the blood on Sam's chest were enough cause for concern that Dean was willing to chance explaining.

Dean was already kneeling by Sam's head, cradling his kid brother's head and reaching to pull his jacket off to staunch the bleeding as the emergency operator picked up the connection. He quickly explained what he could and where he was, begging the woman to hurry; his brother's life was at stake. He almost laughed out loud when she told him not to panic and to think about his brother. She collected some more information from him, and eventually hung up with him; Dean was too impatient to really understand the conversation.

"You'll be okay, Sammy. Help's on the way…normal help, like you'd like. So you have to be okay, 'cuz we're doing this your way. Just hold on, little brother, we've got more sons of bitches to kill that are just waiting for us." Dean knew he was rambling, but the eerie quiet from the alleyway was getting to him. Hearing himself talk was better than hearing the slight wheeze coming from Sam's lips as he fought for air.

Dean watched, as if standing on the sidelines, as the red lights began to light up the darkness surrounding him. He stared, detached, as strange men began to circle him, speaking although he couldn't hear them. The older brother didn't react until one of the paramedics tried to move him away from his brother. The snarl that came from his mouth rivaled that of a female dog whose pups have been taken from her, and it startled both rescue officials.

They tried to talk to Dean, but it did no good; he was unresponsive, and at this point, trying to remove him was only wasting their time and taking away from treating their main cause for concern. A knowing glance between the two paramedics confirmed what each was thinking; that this young man didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of surviving the ride to the hospital, never mind the time in the emergency room and whatever else could lie in store for him. But for now, the young man was still breathing and they had a job to do. If that meant leaving the older man at their charge's head for the time being, then so be it. Neither one wanted to try and forcibly remove him unless they had to.

The assessment of the young man lying on the ground was quick and easy: scoop and run, pray to God or whatever being would listen, and get back to the hospital as fast as humanly possible. The paramedics didn't stop to confer, didn't want to know for the moment what had caused the injuries they were not treating, they just slapped down gauze pads and sprinted back for the backboard. The older paramedic rolled his eyes as his counterpart just stared at him; the rookie didn't want to deal with the man getting in their way.

"Sir?" He sighed when there was no response. All he could make out from the kid's mumbling was that this was his little brother, named Sammy. Idly, the middle-aged man wondered if 'Sammy' liked being called that. "Sir? We need to take your brother now. We can't help him if you won't let us. Please. You called for us, you know that he needs help, but we can't do that without you moving. We'll take care of him, I promise."

Dean looked up as if realizing for the first time that anyone else was there. "You'll help him?" Somewhere inside, the rational part of Dean cursed his voice making him sound so unsure of himself.

"We'll do our best, son. But you need to back away from him."

Dean nodded, and with one last squeeze to his brother's shoulder, backed out from under Sam's head and carefully laid it down on the asphalt. Once he was out of the way, he could barely see the blur of activity that moved Sam from the unforgiving ground to the backboard and then the stretcher. Dean hadn't moved from the spot he was standing in when the doors were shut on him. Panic gripped him again, and he felt something grab onto his arm. Instinctively, he drew back.

"Son? Are you coming with us or not?"

Dean's clouded eyes sought the older paramedic's, and he nodded.

"Okay then, let's go. What's your name?" He sighed again when he didn't get a response and herded the boy towards the front of the rig. "Mine's Thomas, did I hear your brother's name is Sammy?"

"Don't let him hear you calling him that; he hates it," Dean muttered quietly.

"I didn't think he would. What's your name, son?"

"Dean. I'm Dean…and that's Sam. He's younger." Again, he cursed how weak he sounded. _Get it together, Dean._

The bus lapsed into an uneasy silence as Thomas jumped into the driver's seat; he couldn't help looking to see if Dean buckled his seatbelt. The boy reminded him of his own son, even if he was out of college by now.

They were halfway to the hospital when it happened. "Tom, pull over. Quick! We're losing him!"

Thomas swerved off of the two-lane road and threw the bus into park. "Stay here," he growled at Dean and ducked into the back.

Dean unbuckled the seatbelt he hadn't realized he'd put on, and turned around in the seat. There was no room for him in the back anyway, but he could see the monitors attached to Sam and he could feel himself blanch when the line stopped jumping. "Oh God," he muttered, and sucked in a breath.

_Sam, damn it, you have to be okay. What the Hell do you think you're doing flat lining on me? You think you get to take the easy way out? No way. I can't do this anymore without you. Hell, I don't think I ever could, I just got really good at pretending all those times Dad didn't make you come. We make a damn good team you and I, and I don't want to be out on the road by myself. You're my little brother, Sammy, and I couldn't protect you this time, so you have to be all right so that I can make it up to you._

Dean's lungs felt like they were burning, but he was more concerned watching his baby brother's chest arch off the stretcher as the two men tried valiantly to save Sam's life. When the tiny blip on the monitor sounded, he realized that he'd been holding his breath and let it out. He didn't notice when Thomas got back to the front of the rig, or when they started moving again, just that Sam was still with them…for the time being.

When they finally got to the ambulance bay, Dean thought he heard Thomas mutter "I wouldn't have bet on that," but didn't have time to ask, and was pretty sure he didn't want to know what it meant. He simply opened his own door and jumped out, surprised to hear himself grunt in pain. Quickly, he banished the moment from his memory and searched for his brother's hand as he was unloaded. Dean needed that reassurance, though he would never admit to it, that Sam was still alive.

Dean tried to tune out the banter that was shot back and forth as he raced along with the doctors and the stretcher.

"Pulse is tachy at 130 and BP is low, 80 over 50. Resps are shallow and he's got some major damage to at least one lung. Compound fracture to the left radius and ulna, and the shoulder was relocated in the field. He's been unconscious since before we were on the scene and he was revived en route with our AED." Dean let the doctors drone on as he stared down at the pale face that was his brothers. He wanted nothing more than to be able to smack Sam upside the head for scaring him like this, but would be content with being able to glare at his kid brother and have him see it.

He vaguely heard Thomas say "I wouldn't try it," before he felt someone trying to pry his fingers from Sam's. Protective instincts years in the making set in and his hand tightened. He didn't know why, but he felt as though letting go of Sam, letting him out of his sight, would be the last time he did so, and he wasn't ready to face that. Dean didn't take his eyes off his brother, simply jolted his elbow into whoever's ribs was trying to take him away from Sam and moved closer. He definitely heard Thomas mutter an "I told you so," before the man was in his line of view.

"Let him go, son. Come on with me and let them do their work. We're just going to take a few steps back here so they can help Sammy. That's it, Dean; he's going to be all right now."

Dean didn't even realize that he had let go of Sam's hand; something let him believe what the man was telling him. He took a few tedious steps backwards, never taking his eyes off of the still outstretched hand that was ignored for the moment.

"Come on, Dean. Come with me. Let's find you a place to sit down or something. You should probably get yourself checked out too." Thomas didn't know what kind of hurts this boy could be hiding, but he was sure that if Sam was as bad as he was, then this Dean couldn't have escaped unharmed.

"I'm fine."

"Sure you are."

Dean felt himself being guided rather insistently away from his brother, but there was nothing he could do about it now, and he suddenly found it easier to comply than to try and stay still. Something about that in and of itself frightened him, but he didn't want to deal with anything that wouldn't allow him to be strong for Sam, and so pushed it to the back of his mind. When Thomas pushed him down to a seat, Dean slumped to one side and gazed at the tile floor. Letting out a deep breath, he rested his head back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes.

_How could I let this happen? I should have known better; should have had more of an idea of what we were going up against or how fast it was going to be. Sammy didn't want to go after it yet, why couldn't I have listened to…_"Ahh," Dean couldn't suppress the cry of pain that dragged him from his thoughts. He glared at Thomas, and then raised an eyebrow at the blood on the man's outstretched fingers. "Sam's?"

"No, son. Yours. Take your jacket off for me; I'm going to go get someone to help."

"I'm fine. I'll be all right, just let me be."

"Look. Dean. You can't do anything else for your brother right now. So let's get you checked out. Beating yourself up inside and not getting help for…this," he probed at Dean's side again, getting a wince from his patient, "is not going to help him in any way. I'm betting that as protective as you are of him, he sure as Hell wouldn't want you bleeding to death out here so that when he wakes up no one's there for him. Would he?"

Something sparked in Dean's eye at the thought of Sam waking up alone and he nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Good, now unless you want them to cut that jacket of yours, I'd get it off while I go get you some help." Thomas pulled himself back to standing and caught a glimpse of the blood stain on the wall behind Dean's head. He wondered if the kid in front of him was older than he seemed now, and if it was the concussion that was making him act younger. He watched as the jacket slowly came off and was folded carefully next to him. He gestured to the necklace too, just in case, before heading towards the Admin desk to get some help.

_What the Hell could have gotten the drop on us like this? It didn't seem to be fazed by anything we did to it, and I don't even know how…or if…I managed to kill it. It better be dead, or I swear, I won't stop until I've hunted it down and ripped it limb from limb for doing this to Sammy. He's gonna be fine though; and then we'll be back on the road, off to kill the thing that's hunted him all his life. Then I won't have to be alone all the time, and I'll know he's safe. Although, maybe he'd be safer if he wasn't with…hello, pretty girl…_Dean's thoughts were cut off as a young nurse turned his head towards her. A second later, however, he was damning her to the fires of Hell in Latin when she shone a penlight in his eyes. The light made his eyes water, and he turned his head away.

"Come on with us now, Dean. Let's get you checked out." She reached out her hand to him and eased him out of the chair and into a wheelchair. It was the last thing Dean remembered until he was sitting in a dark room, watching as the pretty nurse stitched up his side. He supposed something was wrong when he didn't even feel like asking her out.

* * *

"No. I don't want to go upstairs for observation. I can hear you just fine, you know. I want to go back to my brother, and I want to go now." Dean reached for the IV line that he hadn't agreed to and couldn't really remember getting, to pull it out. He glared when the pesky paramedic that hadn't gone back on call swatted his hand away from it.

"Look, son."

"I'm not your son." The vehemence in Dean's voice startled both Thomas and the nurse.

"All right, Dean. Look, you've lost a lot of blood and whether you like it or not, you need a little bit of help before you can help your brother. Sam's in good hands right now, the best around. You wouldn't have called for help if you didn't think he needed something more than you, am I right?" he saw the conflict in Dean's eyes and took it for all he could get. "So whether or not you want to go upstairs, at least leave the IV for now. If you want to help Sam, you need to leave it…otherwise you'll be going upstairs unconscious from hypovolemic shock. Please?"

"Can I see Sam now?" Dean left the IV, but still reached for his jacket. He swung his legs over the side of the table and stood unsteadily. "Look yourself. I've already dealt with x-rays and a CT scan. You said yourself that there's nothing more to do unless something changes. But while we're sitting here twiddling our thumbs, my brother could have…he could have…" _Oh God, he could be gone already and I would have no way of knowing. I need to get out of here. I need to find Sammy._

"They're still working on him Dean. I can go find out if they've got any updates for you, but they knew you were here, I'm sure if they had any news, you'd be the first to know."

Dean just shook his head and stood, grabbed the IV stand and made for the door. "Which way?"

Thomas sighed and pointed to his left, watching as the young man raced off. He picked up the t-shirt that Dean had left behind, and followed. These two intrigued him, and he wanted to see how the rest of it played out. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder as the two stared into the empty trauma room, and Thomas just whispered, "I'll find him for you," before heading off to the Admin desk again.

Dean stared at the bloody gauze pads that littered the floor, at the blood stained tiles on the floor and the wheel marks that weaved their way out through that blood. _There's so much of it, did that all come from Sam? How could he still be alive if it did? Is this it? Is Sammy gone? How am I going to tell Dad? He told me to protect him. Mom told me that Sam was my little shadow, and that I had to watch out for him. I won't even get the chance for her forgiveness if he's gone. It was just a simple hunt. Nothing that should have been too hard to do. How did it go so wrong? I don't want to do this by myself for the rest of my life. I don't even see the point. We've always done this because of Mom, but more so because whatever killed her did over Sam's bed. Sam's told me before that no matter what happens; Mom's not coming back, but if Sam's not coming back either, what's the point? Who's going to watch my back? I'd be dead tonight if not for Sam, and he'd be…if I wasn't there…shit maybe he still is…I don't want to do this without him. Oh God. He can't be dead._

TBC…

* * *


	2. Looking Back

Chapter 2

"Dean? Come on with me. They took him upstairs to surgery. We just missed Jake coming to let you know before. Come on." Thomas took Dean by the elbow and steered him away from the sight he was fixated on.

* * *

For the fifteenth time, Dean paced back and forth in front of the doors that Thomas promised led to where they were working on his brother. More than anything, he wanted to see Sam, wanted to be able to prove to himself, with his very own eyes, that his brother was still with him. Dean had never put much stock into what he couldn't verify with cold hard facts or simply seeing that would make him believe, and the words of one paramedic certainly weren't enough to outweigh what he had seen downstairs. Especially when that paramedic was no longer there to reassure him again. The IV bag had drained sometime over the past couple trips between the cold seat in the hallway and his new path, and he'd pulled the needle out, leaving it in a corner. 

The police had already come and gone, as Dean knew they would. They were more concerned that two men had managed to find whatever they did and kill it, afraid that he and his brother were the ones killing the townspeople, than what it was that they found in the alley. Even out of it as he was, Dean had easily convinced them that he and Sam were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and someone else had shot the 'dog' when he had been taking care of his brother. He didn't know how the thing died.

Dean thought back to what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. Some random clue to mysterious deaths, just like all the other hunts they'd been on had led to loading their handguns with silver bullets, storing a knife apiece, and heading off into the alleyway that had led to seven other deaths. Thinking back, Dean mused that it probably wasn't the smartest thing they had done to date.

Sam had asked him more than once if they shouldn't do some more research into this before confronting it. They thought it was some type of Black Dog, but a few of the clues didn't quite match up and he wasn't quite sure that they had the whole story. Dean could remember laughing at him and telling him to quit being a sissy; a silver bullet should take care of the thing either way. _I swear, if you're okay Sam, I'll…well I'll try to listen to you some more about that…at least a little._

They had been lucky enough to find a motel around the corner from the alleyway where each of the victims had been attacked, and Dean was thankful for that now, since he had momentarily panicked earlier when he thought he had left the Impala there. The thought of his car safely in the motel parking lot had calmed his nerves some, and he could focus his attention on the surgery bay doors again, willing them to open.

The moment the two had entered the alleyway, they knew something was wrong, and before either of them could react, the beast was upon them, knocking Dean to the ground. Sam had shot at the thing, but the silver had no effect on it, and it had turned on the one who was pestering him. The beast had leapt from Dean's back and flew into his brother, knocking Sam back against the wall and clawing at his chest. Dean didn't remember Sam falling to the ground, or shooting into the beast's mouth as it clamped down on his hand. He had only just barely regained his senses when he saw the beast claw at Sam's chest again, and watched his kid brother's eyes roll back into his head. Before he could stand up and reach for his knife, Dean saw Sam go flying into the air and connect with the third floor fire escape before crashing to the ground again. He heard the snap of bones breaking and almost felt when Sam's head connected with the asphalt, and went into a rage. Nothing messed with his little brother and lived to tell about it.

He didn't remember much after that. He knew that he had gotten his brother help, but couldn't remember how, and while he knew that someone had stitched him up, for the life of him, he couldn't remember more than that she was pretty. He supposed that that should concern him, but he'd had concussions before, and knew that it would pass soon enough.

Dean didn't remember falling asleep, but he could tell almost instantly that he was dreaming. He was in the woods somewhere, a shotgun slung across his back and a flashlight in his left hand. He didn't know what he was hunting, but he pressed onwards anyway. The woods were pitch black, and Dean idly wondered why the moon wasn't helping any. He pulled the shotgun from his back when he started to feel the hair rising on the back of his neck, but never got the chance to use it. As his head was being pushed further down into the forest floor and something kept him from fighting back he counted the seconds until Sam kicked the thing's ass. He felt his lungs burn as he fought for air and wondered why Sam wasn't helping him. As spots danced before his dream sight, he realized that Sam wasn't coming to his rescue.

Dean woke with a start, clutched his side, and jumped up again. Dizziness assaulted his balance, and he had to grab on to the chair arm to keep from falling back down. He pushed himself forward again and made the trek nervously to the nurses' station.

"Any word on my…"

"Mr. Winchester, we'll be sure to let you know as soon as we know anything. Now please, sit down. Or go get some coffee or something. Please."

Dean huffed at the older woman and made his way back to his chair. The dream scared him, and he wanted more than anything for someone to let him know that it wouldn't come true; at least not in the near future.

* * *

Several hours and many frightening dreams later, Dean found himself once again dying in his dream and once again being jolted awake. Only this time, there was a strange man in green scrubs standing in front of him, his hands outstretched in peace. 

"Mr. Winchester?"

Dean was on his feet. "My brother?"

"Your brother was in pretty bad shape when he got to me. His heart was pretty stressed out and his lungs were far too overworked and one of his ribs had punctured one."

Dean's heart fell and he found it hard to draw in a breath. He collapsed into the chair behind him and buried his head into his hands. _Oh my God. It's happening. I can't believe I let him down. I should have been there for him; it should have been me lying there._

The doctor continued onward, unaware of Dean's plight. "We lost him twice on the table and that was on top of his heart stopping once downstairs and you know about the one in the ambulance. The damage was extensive to his chest wall and the underlying tissues."

_Why are you still talking? Can't you just spit it out instead of dragging it on like this? I know that I failed and because of it my brother isn't going to be sitting in my car again, complaining about how much he can't stand being there for hours on end without being able to stretch out. I get that I'm going to have to explain to Dad why his youngest son is gone, and why I can't figure out why I should keep hunting. Why can't you just leave me be?_

"We had to do some major repairs to his lung and…" the doctor finally paused as he heard the shuddering breaths that betrayed Dean's normally stoic appearance. Something about the sobs that quietly racked the man's body confused the surgeon.

_What? Why are you stopping now? Damn it, just get this over with and leave me be. I was supposed to protect him, and I couldn't even do that. Now Sam's left me behind, and I don't know what to do. Maybe he's better off now, but damn it, he's not supposed to abandon me. He's supposed to be my shadow, like when we were little. He's never supposed to be in a situation that I can't get him out of, but how do I get him out of this one? Please, God, or whoever you are that's listening; I'll do anything…anything to have my brother back. Just…I don't know what to do. What do I do?_

Dean was aware of the tears that poured down his cheeks and stung the minor cuts on his chin. He could hear hitched breaths and was almost surprised when he realized it was the sound of his own breathing.

When the young man in front of him could no longer cry silently, the surgeon realized his mistake. "Oh dear God," he squatted down and put his hands on both of Dean's arms. "No, son, no, you've got it all wrong. Your brother's alive. I can't guarantee that he'll stay that way, but we've got him stable for now, and everything points to him being back to pestering you in no time. He's not dead, son." The gray-haired surgeon was taken aback by the fear in Dean's eyes when they finally locked gaze with each other.

"He's…he's _not_ dead?" Hope started to glimmer in the orbs.

"No. No, he's still with us."

Dean laughed; it sounded more like a sob, and he sat back, looking up to the ceiling, and let out a shaky breath. "He's going to be okay?"

"Well…"

"What!" The fear intensified again, and the surgeon had to put up a hand to stop Dean from screaming.

"He's not out of the woods yet, by any means. He's got a long, hard road ahead of him, and we can't be fully sure of the damage until he does wake up. His lung was punctured and he broke five ribs. His left forearm was badly broken, and his shoulder was dislocated. The wounds on his chest alone were enough cause for concern; they ripped through most of his abdominal muscles. This is going to take sometime to get back the brother that you know, but from what I saw operating on him, he seems like a fighter, so I'm optimistic that he's going to be just fine."

"Sam's…Sam's a warrior. He'll be okay. He doesn't know how not to be." The timbre in Dean's voice showed an air of confidence that had been completely vacant just moments before. Gone was the fear, and gone was the pain of losing his brother, replaced by conviction and a touch of arrogance that the Winchester family, fractured as it was, would be good as new again. He had nothing to worry about now. "Thanks, doc. When can I see him?"

"They're just moving him into recovery now, and getting him situated. Give me about twenty minutes to pull some strings, and I'll get you in to see him. I've got to warn you though; he's going to be hooked up to more monitors and machines than you can shake a stick at. He's going to be on a ventilator for awhile; we've got to make sure his lung can tolerate working again before we take him off of it. For now, we're keeping him in a medically induced coma so he can heal. So don't expect him to wake up any time soon. After you see him you should probably go home and get some rest. It's going to be a long haul."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not chancing losing him again." The surgeon nodded. Seeing this man for only a few minutes had pretty much convinced him that he was going to be seeing a lot of this Dean over the next few weeks.

"I'll see what I can do. But at least clean the blood off your hand for me?"

Dean was confused until he looked down where the IV needle had been. He nodded and watched as the man's back disappeared around a corner.

* * *

True to his word, twenty minutes later Dean was standing outside an ICU room with his brother's name written on a piece of masking tape on the wall next to the door he refused to go in. There were two slots for names, but only one was filled. Dean stood there, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other repeatedly running through his hair, careful of the stitches there. Where they had shaved part of his head felt odd to him, and he wondered whether or not there'd be a visible scar. 

Still Dean stood at the door, not looking in at his brother; afraid of what he would see. Something told him that if he didn't go in, he could pretend that he was going to see Sam sitting up and laughing at him for being such a girl. He didn't want to see Sam as weak as he was going to be, afraid that it would send him over the edge. But then images assaulted him from the previous night, and thoughts of his brother dead and lying in a morgue almost physically pushed him into the room. He slumped into the chair next to Sam's bed and gingerly took his right hand in both of his own. The warmth of his younger brother's hand gave him hope, and he let his emotions wash over him.

Tears fell in relief this time, and Dean lay his head down next to Sam's arm, finally allowing himself to relax and sleep deeply.

* * *

Three harrowing weeks later had Dean down fifteen pounds and blinking at the slightest mention of natural sunlight. If he didn't know better, the hunter would swear that he had been bitten by a vampire, but in truth he simply hadn't left Sam's side in that time. Infection had been the first setback to attack his brother, and it wasn't the last. 

Two nights beforehand, Dean had gotten the first sign from his brother himself that he was going to be all right. The older brother had woken to pain in his fingers and, silently screaming at his eyes for not opening quickly enough, finally saw movement from Sam. The younger brother's eyes were wide open, and the monitors were going off the charts. Dean knew instantly, although he wasn't quite sure how, what was wrong, and tried to quiet Sam.

Just as the nurses came rushing in, Dean grabbed his brother by both shoulders and shook him once. "Stop it, Sam," was all he said, but it was enough, and as their eyes locked, Sam relaxed and eased back into unconsciousness.

As he sat with the doctor moments later, he begged for his brother to be taken off the ventilator. "That's why he freaked out, I'm sure of it."

"You and what medical degree?"

Dean glared. "Look, I think I know my brother better than you do. He's strong, and if he wakes up like that again, I don't know if he'll listen to me. He's petrified of not being able to breathe; he needs to know that he has that at least."

As if to prove Dean's point, Sam woke again, tensed and set his heart monitors off screaming, and tried to grab for the tube in his mouth. Dean held his hands down, but continued to glare at the doctor.

The panic in Sam's eyes made the doctor acquiesce, unsure if allowing the vent to stay would do more harm than good, and pulled the tube.

* * *

Sam hadn't woken again since, and Dean was afraid that they had made the wrong choice.

* * *

Dean paced the room in front of the windows, going stir crazy but unwilling to leave in case his brother needed him again. He looked back to his brother once more, and could see him as a nine-year old, the first time he could remember Sam spending any time in the hospital. All he wanted now was for the same result to ensue. Sam had been fine then, and he had to be fine now. 

He sat down heavily next to his brother's bed and lay his head down on his arm once more, closing his eyes. He wasn't really sure when he started talking out loud, just that at some point his thoughts became words.

"Look, I know this isn't the life you want and if it wasn't for me and Dad…no, if it wasn't for me, you'd be off living some normal life and never having to worry about Black Dogs or whatever. I don't understand why you wouldn't want this life, but I'm not you and I get that. You wanted out, and you still want out, but damn it man, this isn't the way to do it. Lying in some hospital bed in some rinky dink town is not going to be your life, Sam, so damn it, wake up already." Dean paused and sighed.

"Sammy, come on man. It's time to give me some kind of sign that you're okay. I got you off that damned tube thing, so now you've got to do something for me. Jesus, man. I thought you died back there, and…well let's just say that I don't think I know what I would have done if you had. I'm sorry for dragging you into all this. You were right; we should have known what we were getting into before we went there that night. Damn it. You're my only brother, and as much as you piss me off sometimes and I don't always understand you, you're my kid brother; my family; Hell, my best friend. For every time I want to throw you out of the damned car and leave your ass behind somewhere, for every time I swear that you must have been adopted, I couldn't do this without you man. Sammy, I don't think I would even want to. You're my only brother, Sam, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I think that was the world's biggest chick flick moment, Dean. And don't even deny it." Sam rasped and then coughed three times, lifting his right hand to his chest. The left one, casted as it was, tapped Dean's head.

Dean's head shot up and he caught Sam's smile. "I swear to God, if you tell anyone about it, I'll kick your ass. How much did you hear?"

"Oh nothing, Dean. Nothing at all. It wasn't a Black Dog, by the way." Sam was still rasping and coughed again pointedly.

Dean laughed and got Sam some water. His brother was going to be okay.

The End.

* * *

**So I'm sure you can all guess that Sam's going to make a complete recovery and go off on the road with Dean again, so I don't plan on boring you all with a whole chapter on that...I'll leave it to your imaginations...**


End file.
